


Enough

by chroniclackofselfpreservation



Category: Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Cute, Established Relationship, Fluff, Insomnia, Mix of book and anime plots a bit, No Smut, Only slight angst, Other, POV Second Person, Post-Canon, Self-Insert, but nothing too serious, no beta readers we die like men, sophie and markl don’t really exist lol, the tiniest bit, this was totally me just wanting to indulge myself with my #1 comfort character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29672820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chroniclackofselfpreservation/pseuds/chroniclackofselfpreservation
Summary: Howl’s been having trouble sleeping since getting his heart back.
Relationships: Howl Pendragon/You, Not sure how to label the relationship for ao3 but whatev
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	Enough

Traversing the Wastes in search of the castle in and of itself is an exhausting task, and after the day you’ve had, you figure no one can really blame you for plopping down on a damp mossy rock and fighting an angry sigh. You’re pretty sure you’re walking in circles, and these mists aren’t getting any lighter. You keep thinking you hear the familiar clank and hiss of Calcifer moving the castle, but it’s gone in the space of a breath, leaving you alone again in the swirling fog. Following the ring Howl gave you—connecting you to Calcifer—didn’t do much but give you a direction, and you’d been on your feet for hours.

Howl had warned you not to stay so late at the market because he’d planned on moving the Kingsbury door later that evening, but there’s been a celebration of some kind going on that had clogged the streets with citizens and performers alike. Then you’d found the most wonderful pastry shop and they just so happened to carry the raspberry turnovers Howl had mentioned in his sleep a few nights ago, but then a group of soldiers on furlough at the capital decided to relieve you of your belongings.

You’re no pansy when it comes to getting in a scuffle, but there were five of them and you’re certainly not proficient enough in the rudimentary magic Howl’s been teaching you to properly defend yourself. In the end, you ended up losing not only the raspberry turnovers, but all your money, a book of spells you’d been studying, and a lace glove that turned the wearer invisible.

“Calcifer,” you say to the metal band inset with a twinkling stone, “I think I’m lost. Could you bring the castle around?”

The stone pulses once. Calcifer can’t speak through this avenue, so you simply take the acknowledgement and hope it’s an affirmative. You hate pulling the castle off course, especially for something as trivial as losing track of time. You hope Howl won’t be too upset.

You rest your head in your hands and resolve to wait.

* * *

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you come awake to a warm hand on your shoulder and the castle standing ready before you. You’re still groggy and a bit confused as to where you are, but you recognize the gentle face before you, blonde hair framing his face.

You smile and cup his face with a hand. “You dyed it back.”

Howl flushes, squeezing your hand between his cheek and shoulder. “Knowing myself, it will be fluorescent pink by the morning,” he chuckles.

Howl tucks an arm beneath your legs and scoops you up into his arms. You squirm a bit, embarrassed. “You’ll pull a muscle, pretty boy.”

“I won’t,” he counters, but there’s no snark in his voice.

“Bet you’re using a strength spell,” you say sleepily into his shirt, smiling. He smells of candle wax, ink, and wood shavings. He always does.

“Nonsense, my dear. You’re light as a feather,” he says, stepping up the rickety front steps and gliding through the entrance. When the door swings shut behind you, the sounds from the outside world disappear. All you can hear is Calcifer crackling at the hearth, and the slow tinkle of Howl’s crystalline mobiles hanging from the rafters.

“We’re twenty miles off course, Howl!” Calcifer complains as he carries you up the stairs into the main room.

“We’re exactly where we need to be, Calcifer,” Howl says placatingly.

You fist your hand in his shirt and mutter, “I lost my satchel.”

“Lost it?” Howl asks, looking down at you.

“It had that spell book you gave me and the lace glove in it,” you say, dodging the question entirely. “Plus a fair bit of coin, too.”

“However did you manage that?”

“I’m not sure,” you say. “I set it down for just a moment, but when I looked back it was gone.”

Howl stands there contemplating in the middle of the room, casual despite still holding you. Without a word he begins up the stairs, the old wood creaking beneath the weight of the two of you. You know you could easily walk up the stairs on your own, but Howl’s hold on you has turned… not desperate, but calm—deliberately so. His grip on your shoulder tightening ever so slightly.

He carries you down the hall, opening the door to your shared room with nothing but a slight dip of his head and steps over the threshold. Howl lets you down, and you can tell it’s hard for him not to simply clutch you to his chest forever.

Despite your best attempts, the room is still a cluttered collection of Howl’s things. You’ve done your best to establish _some_ sense of organization. You remember fondly when Howl had asked if you wanted to share the room—and the bed. He’d been so frantic to make sure you had space for your things, vowing he’d throw out half of his useless junk.

You’d simply pecked him on the nose and said, “A single shelf should be enough for me, love. Besides, I like having your things around. They remind me of you when you’re gone.”

Still, he makes an effort to keep the floor clear, at least. Quite the feat considering the man’s attention span.

“I shouldn’t have moved the Kingsbury door today,” he says, picking at his bottom lip in the absent way he does whenever he’s lost in thought.

You lower to a seat on the foot of the bed, running your fingers over the mismatched quilt. It was enchanted not to get too hot or too cold at night. “No, I knew you were changing it today. I didn’t _need_ to go to the market—“

“But you _did go_ _,”_ he says, “and I still moved it anyway.”

“I’m all right, though, aren’t I?” you say. “I got home just fine.”

Howl says nothing, staring into the middle distance. His heel begins to bounce as he resists the urge to pace the room and you sigh, holding out a hand to him. He glances at you for a moment, confused.

“What is it?”

You raise your eyebrows and grab at the air impotently. A reluctant smile graces Howl’s face and he meanders the few paces over to you, lacing his fingers through yours and pressing his lips to your fingertips, pecking each one individually. 

“You’re incorrigible,” you scold, trying not to laugh at his antics. “We can go out tomorrow and look for the things I lost. How about that?”

“All right,” he relents and surprises you with a kiss. You barely have time to register what happened before he’s across the room, pulling his shirt over his head, flinging it to the floor, and burrowing beneath the quilt. 

“Wha—Hey! Don’t take all the blankets!” you say, beating his head with a pillow. “No fair, you distracted me on purpose.”

Howl let out a throaty laugh of unashamed mischief. “You’ll never get it back, now.”

“Oh really?” you say, lifting the corner and getting under yourself. Howl rolls, winding up more of the blanket, and you launch forward, hands grabbing at his sides where he’s ticklish. The blonde wizard shrieks, thrashing but unable to get away. In trying to keep you from taking the blanket, he’d inadvertently trapped himself.

“Okay, okay!” he gasps. “You win! Have mercy!”

“Victory!” you crow, falling back onto the pillow with a laugh. Howl releases the other half of the quilt to you. You kick your day clothes off onto the floor and settle in under the blanket. 

Howl cocks an eyebrow. “I thought I was the messy one.”

“You are,” you retort with an indulgent smile. “I’ll pick them up in the morning.”

“I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Yes, you are,” you sigh contentedly, scooting close to him and laying your head on his chest. Howl stares at the ceiling, carding his fingers through your hair as you drift in that strange place between asleep and awake. His fingers, smooth and uncallused only by way of magic to preserve his boyish appearance, run through your hair, tugging gently at knots. It is here, in the soft moments before slumber, when Howl becomes the most himself. That isn’t to say he’s pretending otherwise, but rather he spotlights the grandest, most chivalrous and noble parts of himself in the light of day. Rarely does a scowl mar his pretty face until the lamps are out, Calcifer half awake and gently guiding the castle across the Wastes, and you tucked beneath his arm. You can feel his heartbeat beneath the pads of your fingers from where they lie on his chest. _A heavy burden, indeed._

“You’re doing it again,” you mumble, shifting a little.

“Doing what, sweetheart?” he mumbles back. 

“You’re overthinking things.”

“I can’t seem to stop,” he whispers, knocking his head back against the headboard. “It was Suliman, wasn’t it? I thought she’d finally given up on me after we finished that horrible war, but…” 

You swallow. “It wasn’t Suliman. A group of soldiers thought they’d relieve me of my things. That’s all.” At least, you don’t _think_ it was Suliman. She easily could have ordered the soldiers to keep a lookout for someone with your description. If that had been the case, however, surely the sorceress would have done more drastic than have them accost you in an alley and steal your things. 

“Did they hurt you?”

You rise up on an elbow, coming face to face with the wizard. “No.” You cup his face with a hand and he meets your gaze. “They did not hurt me, and you did nothing wrong. Everything is okay.” 

Howl smiles weakly. “You have no idea how badly I want to believe you, dear.” 

You run your fingers across his collarbone. “You’re not omnipotent, Howl. You can’t blame yourself for every bad thing that happens.”

Howl doesn’t respond. Probably an attempt to avoid pointless debate, not agreement. You lie at his side in silence, letting the feeling of his fingers tracing sigils of protection across your shoulder lull you into a light sleep. You hear him let out a breath heavy with frustration. He’d never suffered from insomnia when Calcifer held his heart. Now, it takes a special kind of miracle to get him to sleep anywhere but hunched over the table downstairs or slumped in the uncomfortable chair in front of the hearth whenever he finally collapses from exhaustion. 

“How do you do it?” he whispers so softly you nearly miss it. You don’t move, wondering if he knows you’re still awake. “I think my heart is broken. Perhaps I lost a part of it when I agreed to give it to a demon. Maybe that’s why it never stops fluttering with fear whenever I think of Sulliman taking you.” He swallows, throat clicking with emotion. “A part of me wishes I could lock you away from it all. What an evil, selfish wish to have.”

Sulliman’s words flicker through your mind. _He has far too much power for someone without a heart._ He’d truly been a coward back then, a childish shadow of his true self having to go as far as tricking himself into doing what was right—but somehow, now that he’d received his heart, he got it all twisted, thinking he’d go from a carefree coward, to a permanently happy man. 

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” you mutter, eyes still closed. 

He stiffens. “What? Of course, not! Why would you think—”

You looked up at him. “You are a good person, Howl. I _know_ you are—and don’t you dare say I’m biased,” you say, pointing a finger in his face. “Our relationship has nothing to do with your goodness. You aren’t good because I love you; I love you _because_ you’re good, Howl.”

He blinks, a little shocked at the outburst. 

“Do you really think I'd let myself fall in love with a horrible person?”

“No,” he says reluctantly, looking away.

“Good,” you say, pecking him on the cheek. “Because you are more than enough, dearest.”

Howl smiled, pressing his lips to your hairline. “Likewise, my love.”


End file.
